I Won't Let You Go, Even In Death

That night, Niccolo came home—with dozens of men.

They filled the entire floor of the estate.

Unless he was facing a formidable rival, he never made such a show of force.

But this was the first time he had ever turned his blade on me.

We sat at opposite ends of the negotiation table, each backed by rows of men standing silently behind us.

"Twice now."

His slender fingers tapped lightly against the marble surface, the sound seemed sharp in the silence.

"Maureen, you owe her an apology," he spat coldly.

I laughed sarcastically. "Anyone foolish enough to walk into a lion's den should be ready to face the consequences of her recklessness."

Half of Niccolo's face was swallowed in darkness; I couldn't read his expression.

"Does President Morales really think his wife is so submissive that when a mistress comes knocking, she'll simply do nothing?"

The lighter flared in the dark. I lit the slim cigarette between my lips, the smoke curling upward.

"Niccolo, you should remember—every bloody step you clawed your way up, I was right there bleeding with you. And now you want to set a pampered little canary against me? Is it you who has gone mad—or her?"

I slid the divorce papers across the table once more, blowing a slow ring of smoke.

"This is your last chance."

Moonlight spilled over the marble, but it revealed nothing of our faces.

We stared at each other through the shadows.

"From childhood, you were the one who killed the beast that was my father. You stormed into powerful households for me."

"And I... I lost a child for you. I bled myself dry for you. Niccolo, it's time we cut ties clean. No debts left between us. That's the best ending for us both."

"The best ending..." His low laugh echoed through the darkness.

He picked up the divorce agreement. With the flick of his lighter, the paper caught fire, curling into ash before my eyes.

"She won't appear in front of you again."

The ashes scattered into the air as he rose, leading his men out in a sweeping tide.

A sharp pain stabbed my lower abdomen. I bent forward, clutching my stomach.

My attendants rushed to my side.

"Miss Maureen!"

"I'm fine..." My voice was faint. "Just the old problem."

Ever since losing that child, the cramps came back every time it rained. Not even the best gynecologists could cure it.

Perhaps it wasn't just the body that hurt—perhaps the heart made it worse.

This time, it was unbearable enough that I went to the hospital.

There, I walked straight into a storm.

Rizza was in the ward, sobbing and screaming. "Why didn't you kill her? That bitch is no more than an ant to you! Crushing her should be effortless!"

"I want her dead! If you won't do it, I'll kill her myself!"

She snatched up a dagger, ready to storm out.

Niccolo seized her wrist and yanked her back with brutal force. The blade cut into his palm, blood welling instantly.

Rizza collapsed into his arms, weeping.

With his bleeding hand, he cupped her face. Her tearful eyes looked up at him—and then their mouths crushed together in a fierce kiss.

The dagger clattered to the floor.

The room was filled with the sound of their breath, their intimacy, their entanglement.

Once, Niccolo and I embraced in blood.

Now, Rizza kissed him in blood.

The door opened and she saw me.

"Maureen!"